


Sentinel

by KaenNoMai



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), BAMF Dean Winchester, BAMF Sam Winchester, Canon Compliant, Dean Winchester Whump, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, its a good thing cas has his mojo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 04:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20419844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaenNoMai/pseuds/KaenNoMai
Summary: I was supposed to be sleeping when the image of unconscious!Sam being protected by badly hurt!Dean came into my mind and yeah. This is it.*Dean held the machete up in his left hand, right arm still hanging uselessly by his side, trying to ignore the bright throbbing with every heartbeat. He stood protectively in front of Sam, who was out cold but not any more injured than that as best as Dean could tell. His strength was waning as quickly as the blood was steadily trickling out of his chest, and it was taking all of his willpower to stay standing. Almost all of his weight was on his good leg, knee tipping on the precipice of buckling from underneath him.This didn't look good.





	Sentinel

“How’re we lookin’, Cas?” Dean asked, looking to the angel next to him as Sam shifted, using the only pair of binoculars that they owned. They should really get another pair.

“I can’t see anything,” Cas said, the low tone of his voice showing his frustration. “The angel sigils are blocking everything. I can’t even tell how many of them there are, or even what they are.”

“So,” Dean started, pursing his lips. “We got zip on what, where, who, why, and how many there are. It’s a good thing we got the when, eh?” Dean tried to joke, but Sam ignored him and Cas didn’t react.

Dean paused for a moment, waiting, but eventually just raised his eyebrows and muttered, “Okay,” under his breath. “Sam, you got anything?” Dean asked, shifting to face his brother. 

“All I’m seeing is shapes moving back and forth through the window. Looks vaguely human shaped and either they move really fast or there’s a lot of them.” 

“Or both,” Dean added.

“Or both,” Sam agreed, decidedly less cheerful.

“Alright then,” Dean said, slapping Sam on his shoulder and rolling over to stand up from where the three of them were laying on the ground, casing the “abandoned” warehouse. “I say we bring guns, angel blade, holy oil, and lighters. Hopefully one of those will screw with whatever we got.”

“Dean,” Sam said, “We don’t even know what they are. What if this is a nest of vampires? Demons? Werewolves? Hell, this could be something we’ve never seen before.” Sam’s voice was exasperated, though Dean wasn’t really listening. They’d had this conversation practically every day leading up to now, and Dean could recite it from memory for Sam if he wanted to. 

“We haven’t seen them, Sam. That’s the point.” Dean raised his hands in a  _ “What are you gonna do” _ gesture. 

“Dean,” Sam sighed, before Dean cut him off.

“Look, Sam. We aren’t any closer to figuring out what these fuckers are. All we know is that they’ve taken one person every five days for a month now. I was fine to wait earlier, but, pattern holding, they’re gonna take someone tonight unless we can stop it.” Dean glared at Sam and Cas in turn. “So I’m going tonight.”

“He does have a point,” Cas conceded after a moment of silence. “We haven’t learned anything further after three days of surveillance. Perhaps the best course of action would indeed be a direct assault, in the hopes of taking them by surprise.” 

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean said, turning to go open the trunk of the Impala.

Dean heard Sam sigh from behind him. “I know, I just hate going in blind. It never seems to work out for us.”

“We don’t have much of a choice,” Dean said, hearing the capitulation. 

“Yeah, I know.” Dean felt Sam come around, heat pressing up next to him as Sam looked over Dean’s shoulder into the trunk. “Grab a silver knife, too, and I’ll take a machete. Hopefully we’ll have something that’ll hurt whatever’s in there.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed, tossing a machete over his shoulder and slipping a silver knife into his jacket. He glanced behind him over at Cas. “We’ll strip the sigils as quickly as we can so you can join us in there.”

Cas nodded, watching them get geared up. Dean tossed a can of black spray paint to Sam, slipping an identical one into his own jacket. 

“Stay safe, Cas,” Sam said on his way past the angel. “We’ll try to be quick.”

Cas nodded once and Dean saw his fingers tighten around his angel blade. “And you as well.”

Sam and Dean set off towards the warehouse in silence. Dean could tell by the set of Sam’s shoulders that he was worried and frustrated, most likely about the lack of knowledge of what they were walking into. Whatever they were, they were good at covering their tracks and staying unseen. They weren’t even able to determine if the vics were dead or alive, used as food, or turned.

Honestly, Dean was hoping for vamps. They were known to kidnap people and either use them for food or turn them, which was just as likely and easier to deal with.

Slowly, they crept up to the back of the warehouse. There was a couple of yards with no cover whatsoever, in clear view of the door. Dean frowned, annoyed. It was the same at every entrance, so they had just agreed on the backdoor and were hoping for the best. 

“Quietly or with a running start?” Dean whispered to his brother, both staring at the door. 

“They’ll see us coming,” Sam pointed out.

Dean considered the point and nodded. “Running start it is then.”

A quick glance to his side reassured Dean that Sam was ready to go, right behind him. Dean took a couple steps back before running at the door, racing across the uncovered area, before he leaned in and put his weight behind his shoulder, ramming it into the door. It stayed stubbornly closed for a moment before the full weight of Dean with momentum behind him overpowered the lock and flew open. By the time the door broke open, swinging in, Dean already had his gun out and ready, and he brought it up and sighted down the barrel.

One of the men had turned around at the ruckus, and Dean saw his lips curl into a smile.

_ Him first, _ Dean decided, and, taking a split second to aim, put three bullets in his chest.

The man stopped and looked down at his chest, and Dean took a second to hope that it would be enough, but the man looked up and Dean saw his eyes narrow and fangs come down.

“I liked this shirt,” He snarled, and Dean threw a hand back to where Sam was covering his six. 

“Vamps,” Dean said lowly, not taking his eyes off the fucker in the front. He felt Sam nod, and Dean reached around to put his gun back and into his jacket to grab his angel blade. He wished he’d grabbed a machete like Sam did, but hindsight was a bitch. At least Sam had one.

Dean glanced warily around the room. They were outnumbered six to two. With more in the building. 

“We need to get those sigils,” Sam said, voice pitched low to avoid being overheard.

Dean nodded, not bothering to take his eyes off the approaching vampires. “Let’s do this.”

With that, Dean readied himself as the vampires lunged at them. He briefly saw Sam do the same, but with three vamps each bearing down on them, he had to focus on himself.

Vamp number one came at him swinging, and Dean managed to catch his wrist and swing the angel blade against the neck. It sunk in halfway, but the angel blade wasn’t supposed to be used for hacking, and it stopped. 

Vamp One screamed and slapped a hand against his bleeding neck and backed up, leaving Dean to yank the blade out of his neck and swirl around to face the other two that were approaching. 

His heart was pounding, doubt starting to worm in. He didn’t have anything that could hurt the vamps — they only had one machete and there were six vamps, with more probably on the way. With as much activity that Sam had seen in front of the window, Dean assumed that there was more on the way. 

They either needed to get out or get Cas in here, preferably with more machetes. 

Vamps Two and Three rushed him together, with Two throwing a punch and grabbing his right arm as Three approached with his mouth open and fangs down. 

Dean thrashed, but the Two’s grip was too tight for Dean to get out of. 

Thinking quickly, Dean tossed the angel blade from his captive hand to his left and managed to stab the oncoming vampire through the neck. Three stumbled back, before falling over, taking the angel blade with it. 

Vamp Two howled, and before Dean could reach his silver knife in his pocket, Two kicked his foot, boot colliding full force with the side of his knee. 

Dean gasped in pain as his knee buckled, shock preventing him from getting his legs back underneath him. The vamp pressed his advantage, punching Dean in the face and letting go of his arm simultaneously, throwing Dean backwards. He hit the floor hard, all the air in his lungs gone in an instant. He lost a few precious seconds gasping for air before sticking an arm in his jacket pocket to get the silver knife. 

Dean instantly felt better with a weapon in hand, even if he didn’t know how effective the knife was gonna be. With the vampire quickly approaching, Dean tried to get to his feet, but just the effort of trying to bend his knee caused him to get disoriented. He bit back a moan of pain, but the vamp was on him. 

“Now, now, now,” The vamp crooned, catching Dean’s wildly flailing wrist as he tried to slice the vamps neck. “That penknife ain’t gonna do much to me.” The vamp tightened his hold on Dean’s wrist and Dean tried to yank it out. He harshly twisted Dean’s arm with his enhanced strength and Dean cried out in pain as his shoulder dislocated sharply. 

The knife clattered to the floor, but the vamp didn’t let up, still twisting and yanking on his arm, as he reached down and casually picked up the silver knife off the ground. 

“But,” the vamp continued, “it can still hurt you.” 

Dean reached his other hand around to where the vamp was still white knuckled on Dean’s wrist, not being able to stop the cry forced out when he felt something  _ twist _ and  _ pop _ inside his shoulder. 

“Dean!” Sam’s panicked voice cut through the fog of pain, and Dean twisted his head in time to see Sam throw the machete at Dean. 

Dean let go from where he was trying to pry the vamp’s hand off of his wrist to catch the machete whistling through the air and caught it, turning back to cut this son of a bitch’s head off.

The vamp was snarling, “Fuck you, Winchester,” bringing the knife down and twisting his arm sharply before the machete sliced his head clean off. 

Just as the machete finally cut through the last bit on skin in its neck, Dean felt it.

A cold, sharp pain in his chest, and Dean looked down to find his own silver knife sticking out of his chest. 

“Dean!” For the second time that night, Sam’s yell racketed up Dean’s heart rate and he turned to look for his brother, only to find Sam, weaponless, staring down two more vamps. 

“Sam!” Dean yelled, watching as one vamp feinted and the other grabbed his brother and tossed him into the wall near Dean headfirst. Dean scrambled upwards, yanking the knife out of his chest and throwing it helplessly towards the vamps. 

Dean raced to his brother, feet slipping as his knee kept buckling underneath him, panic building in his throat as his brother didn’t move. 

“Sammy!” He yelled, needing to see that his brother was okay, but not having the time. Dean lurched in front of Sam at almost the same time the remaining two vampires stalked up to the brothers. 

Dean held the machete up in his left hand, right arm still hanging uselessly by his side, trying to ignore the bright throbbing with every heartbeat. He stood protectively in front of Sam, who was out cold, but not any more injured than that, as best as he could tell. His strength was waning as quickly as the blood was steadily trickling out of his chest, and it was taking all of his willpower to stay standing. Almost all of his weight was on his good leg, knee tipping on the precipice of buckling from underneath him.

Ugly ducklings One and Two that Dean had incapicated, but not killed, were slowly getting up, anger clear on their faces, joining the two that were already in front of Dean. Dean held up the machete, gripping tightly around the handle to disguise the minute trembling that was coursing through his body. 

A door slammed open abruptly, and Dean jerked, his knee half buckling, leaving him swaying for his balance, but he didn’t dare loosen the grip he had on the machete. He was slipping, slowly but surely, machete dropping, and Dean didn’t like the looks of it as three more vamps walked through the open door. 

Dean tried to stand taller, ignoring the tugging sensation in his chest, making sure he was in front of Sam, who wasn’t waking up. Dean swallowed roughly, the sight of his brother sprawled thoughtlessly on the ground terrifying him. He held the blade up higher, his lips set in a snarl, jaw twitching with the effort of keeping silent. 

The sons’a bitches were gonna have to go through him if they wanted to get to Sammy. 

Dean swallowed, the dryness in his throat painful. They might actually go through him.

So far, they seemed wary of the machete in his hand, but they were quickly gaining confidence with their bolstering numbers, seeing how injured Dean was. Seven vamps circled him, leaving Sam defenseless except for Dean. 

_ “Cas,” _ Dean prayed, a half hope that the prayer would go through. _ “Cas, if you can hear me… It doesn’t look good, man. Think we’re gonna need a miracle to get out of this one.” _

Dean readied the machete, holding it up in front and tucked his right arm up tight against his chest, a futile attempt to protect his injured arm and put at least some pressure on his chest. 

He looked around the room again. There weren’t any sigils in the current room, so they must be in the hallway and beyond Dean’s reach. 

Dean kicked a foot backwards, a half-hearted attempt to jump start Sam. “Sammy?” Dean asked, not taking his eyes off of the approaching vamps. Silence met his question. 

Dean swallowed again. Sam was down and out for the count, and it didn’t seem like Cas could do anything, if he even heard Dean’s prayer. 

One vamp stepped forward and the rest stayed back, and Dean just thanked anyone that was listening that they were coming at him one at a time. 

Dean saw the vamps fangs come down, take a step forward, and then was suddenly right in front of Dean, throwing a punch. Dean’s head snapped to the side, the copper taste of blood filling his mouth. 

“C’mon,  _ Dean _ ,” The vamp said teasingly. “They say you’re a good fighter.” The vamp got really close to where Dean was trying to straighten back up. “Prove it.” He spit, teasing lilt gone. 

Dean spit out a clump of blood. “Yeah?” He asked breathlessly. He tightened his grip on the handle and pivoted sharply, the blade in an upward arc. The vamp realized what was happening too late, reflexes trying to move himself backward, but the machete still curved through its neck. 

The vamp went limp, the  _ thunk _ of the head hitting the ground barely piercing through the ringing in his ears. The remaining vampires glared at him, fangs coming down ominously, but hey. Six bloodsuckers was better than seven bloodsuckers, right?

The remaining six vamps were starting to step forward when the ground rolled underneath Dean, and he lost his balance, knee buckling and it was all Dean could do to control his fall, leaning on the wall. Dean brought his blade up immediately, knowing the vamps were going to take advantage of his weakness, but the expected blows didn’t come. He looked up to see the vamps had paused, looking at each other uncertainly. 

Suddenly, the ground rolled again, and Dean realized it wasn’t just him, but that something was hitting the warehouse, and hitting it hard. 

_ Cas? _ Dean thought.

“Dean?” Came at the same time, Dean whirled around to where Sam was blinking, looking around. 

“Hey, hey, Sammy.” Dean dropped to the ground, and cupped his brothers face in his hands, ignoring the throbbing in his arm. He made sure to keep one eye on the wary vampires behind them. “Look at me, dude. How’re ya feeling?” 

Sam stared at him with a dazed look in his eyes. 

_ “Sam!” _ Dean yelled and tapped his face hard. “Sam, c’mon I need you here,” Dean said desperately, fear tightening his throat.

Another explosion hit the warehouse, hard enough that the walls shook. 

The combination of the explosion, Dean’s frantic tapping, and harried voice seemed to shake Sam out of it. 

“Dean? What happened?” Sam asked, blinking slowly, and Dean could’ve cried. Sam’s eyes roamed around, focusing on something over Dean’s shoulder. “Vamps!” Sam shouted, and Dean turned, just in time for the punch to land on his cheek instead of the back of his head. 

With the enhanced strength of the vamp hitting Dean unprepared, Dean lost his grip on the machete, and got tossed away from Sam. The second Dean hit the ground, he knew he wasn’t getting up. It felt like an elephant was sitting on a knife that was driving into his chest, not letting him catch his breath. His mouth was filling up with blood from biting his tongue, but he couldn’t turn enough to spit it out. He heard the sounds of fighting and thanked the good lord that Sam had woken up enough that he could fight.

Then Sam was at his side, bringing him up against his chest, and Dean coughed, blood dripping out of the side of his mouth. 

“Dean? Dean? Hey, hey, you’re gonna be just fine, dude. C’mon, let me see,” Sam was saying, putting his hand on Dean’s chest and pressing roughly. Dean groaned at the pressure, but Sam’s warm hand was a welcome feeling. The machete clattered to the floor near them, Sam’s other hand coming to gently slap Dean’s cheek. 

“Vamps?” Dean asked, voice gravelly. 

“Killed two and the rest ran outside to see what was exploding.  _ Jesus _ , Dean,” Sam cursed, seeing the extent of the injuries Dean was sporting. “We need to get you to Cas.”

“Sigils,” Dean mumbled, able to breathe better sitting up. Sam looked torn, and Dean knew he wanted to stay with Dean, especially with vamps loose in the building.  _ “Sigils, _ Sam!” Dean yelled, surprisingly strong. Dean knew they couldn’t get Dean to Cas in time, so they had to get Cas to Dean. 

“Okay, okay,” Sam agreed, worry clear on his face before starting to pull Dean back against the wall. “Just — just, sit here okay?” Sam closed Dean’s hand around the handle of the machete, and Dean shook his head empathetically. 

“Can’t - Can’t use it.” Dean tried for a smile, though he knew it was more of a bloodied grimace. He reached back and grabbed his gun, “Got m’gun.”

“Yeah,” Sam said, and Dean pretended not to hear the hysterical note in it. “Just — just don’t die on me, okay?” Sam’s eyes were pleading, and Dean could never say no to that.

Dean made a shooing motion with his hand, weak as it was. Sam spent one last moment looking him over frantically before picking up the machete and turning and sprinting for the door leading deeper into the warehouse. Dean flicked the safety off and let his hands fall in his lap. He focused on breathing, in and out. In and out.

_ “Cas, I don’t even know if you can hear me through the sigils, but if you can… If you don’t make it in time, it’s okay.” _

Seconds or minutes or hours later, a door opened from the hallway. 

It wasn’t Sam or Cas. Dean lifted his gun and shot the figure as best as he could with his blurry vision. The vamp recoiled, and Dean hoped that meant at least something had hit. Another explosion rocked the building.

The vamp recovered and started stalking closer to Dean when his back arched, light erupting from his eyes and mouth. 

Dean smiled as much as he could.  _ “Good ‘ole Cas.” _

With the relief that backup was here, Dean allowed himself to pass out.

*

Dean gasped, eyes flicking open, the sudden absence of pain overwhelming. 

Cas was leaning above him, and Dean looked to Sam, over the angel’s shoulder. His brother turned away, shoulders in a tight line. 

“Sam? Cas?” Dean asked, voice rough. 

“I was able to heal you,” Cas said, deep voice comforting. “But I am not able to replace the blood lost. You should be fine, but be careful.”

“The vampires?” Dean asked, eyes trailing to where Sam still had his back turned, one hand braced against the wall.

“Dead,” Cas said simply, and Dean nodded, closing his eyes at the sudden dizziness. 

“Sam?” Dean asked, purposefully saying it a little louder, eyes fixed on his little brother.

“A concussion, but nothing serious. Healed.” Cas’ words drew Dean’s eyes back. 

“And the explosions?” Dean asked, remembering the powerful blasts that shook the room.

Cas allowed a smile to cross his face. “The grenade launcher from the trunk of the car. I now understand why you’ve always wanted to use it. I heard your prayers and knew you needed help. Because the sigils were blocking my powers, I resorted to more… human resources.”

Dean hummed and closed his eyes. After a pause, Cas continued, “Dean.” 

Dean opened one eye, then realizing Cas was about to say something serious, opened the other. 

“I will always endeavor to find you in time. The world will have lost a bright soul the day you leave and do not return.” Cas’ blue eyes pierced Dean, and he had to look away. 

Dean cleared his throat. “Sam?” He questioned, his little brother’s back still to him. 

Sam finally turned around, his face set into grim lines, though Dean could see the frantic worry and relief clear on his face. Sam glared at Dean. “Don’t you ever do that again. Never, Dean.”

“What was I supposed to do, Sam? Not protect you?”

“Not get stabbed when I’m unconscious,” Sam shot back. 

“Well, then next time I get stabbed, I’ll make sure you’re conscious,” Dean said snidely. 

Suddenly, all the fight drained out of Sam. “Please, Dean. I woke up and you were...” Sam trailed off. 

“You wouldn’t wake up, Sam,” Dean pointed out. “You got thrown into a wall, and you wouldn’t wake up when you were in a room with seven vampires.” Dean stopped, throat tight. Sam wasn’t the only one who had been terrified during that hunt.

Sam sighed. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” He motioned with his hand, and Dean realized it was time to get up.

He groaned, and let Sam and Cas pull him up. He closed his eyes as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over him. 

“Yep, let’s get you out of here,” Sam said, draping one of Dean’s arms over his shoulder and dragging him towards the car.

“Let’s never think about this hunt again,” Dean complained, and then promptly shut up as he focused on staying upright as Sam and Cas practically carried his weight on the walk back to the car. Dean grunted as Sam hoisted him into the backseat of the car. Without conversing, Cas easily sid in beside him, supporting Dean as Sam rounded the car, getting into the driver’s seat. He slid the key into the ignition, but didn’t turn it yet.

Dean warily eyed his brother. “Sammy?”

Sammy sighed, his shoulders heaving with the motion. Because of the angle he was at, uncomfortable as it was bent somewhat awkwardly against Cas, he could nonetheless see the side of Sam’s face clearly. Which meant that when Sam clenched his jaw, inhaling hard, Dean didn’t miss the action.

Sam closed his eyes, letting out the air in a measured exhale. Just when Dean was going to call out his brother again, Sam shook his head, his muscles going lax.

“Let’s go home, Dean.”

Dean stared at his brother for another second, before letting his own body slump against Cas and the side of his Baby. “Yeah, Sammy. Let’s go home.”

**Author's Note:**

> listen,,, we don't know at what point in canon this fic is taking place. please don't ask the author - she doesn't know. 
> 
> anyways school and sports have just started, so if you have anything nice to say please say it; comments very well may be the only way i'm getting through this semester ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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